


Candles in the Gloom

by ziegler



Category: Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Memories, Romance, man i love this game, mentions of gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-05 01:18:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14606028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ziegler/pseuds/ziegler
Summary: The Vestal knows without question that above the darkness, there is always a light to guide her back home - as well as an unrelenting blackness that she must face for the sake of those she loves.





	Candles in the Gloom

**Author's Note:**

> hi all! well where the heck do i begin? man i just love absolutely everything about this game. from the soundtrack to the character design to the gameplay, it is just fantastic!
> 
> on my team i have a plague doctor and a vestal that i have grown very attached to, as well as a houndsmaster and of course reynauld in all his crusader glory. i tried to look up a comprehensive list as to what the real names of each class was, so i went with vestal junia, plague doctor badu, and houndsmaster william. i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it!

_Vestal Junia_.

The name of a woman that was supposed to bring peace to the people’s hearts.

She was a woman who was supposed to maintain her calm, rational demeanour through all situations. A woman who illuminated; who inspired; who healed. She was a woman to be admired and respected.

_Plague Doctor Badu._

The name of a woman who held such intelligence; such impressive, unrelenting medical and scientific prowess that it would make even the gods bend over in admiration. Her concoctions were unending.

One in particular rang true in the walls of this place. Blight.

It was an ironic ability to coin.

This awful, derelict place – which, in itself, was a blight on the face of the planet.

Indeed, it was ironic; the sensations it caused of your insides twisting, burning into naught more than ashes; bleeding and putrid wounds sticking to the insides of your ribs. That was the true power of blight. And how many times had she, The Vestal Junia, been forced to watch her companion inflict this madness on their enemies? How many times had she watched the acidic concoctions biting their way through bones? Through skin? How many screams had she watched her beloved inflict?

She had lost count.

The end of each battle brought new scars. New nightmares.

But for both women, it had brought more knowledge - and to Vestal Junia, she found that her lover, the wonderfully infamous Plague Doctor ever faithfully at her side, had made for the most turbulent exploration of this place that she could have ever hoped.

Before their venture into the foray of this dreadful blight on the world, they had been together for many years. They had explored each other’s minds, bodies, souls so thoroughly that nothing could shake them apart. A love long bonded; a Vestal and a Plague Doctor. A makeshift marriage of science and religion, of opposite ideals somehow making a blissfully harmonious union. Junia never questioned Badu’s fascination with medicine; and in turn, Badu never belittled her faith.

Ever since the beginning of this arduous journey, they were pleasantly surprised to find that the Crusader, Reynauld, and a Houndsman that had come with them known as William, never really seemed to mind their subtle affection. Really, Junia wasn’t sure they even _noticed_ , whilst Badu simply didn’t care if they did. William was more preoccupied with his faithful dog, and Reynauld was a stickler for his religious duty.

The two women often found him praying at every given opportunity – every rare moment of respite, where William had tended to the wounds of himself and his dog and the two women had calmed down the other, Reynauld had already slinked off to a corner of the room; unrolling a small, elaborate mat to kneel down on, and clinked his gauntlets together to pray.

Badu often chuckled, suggesting to Junia that Reynauld was perhaps more _fearful_ of God than respectful. Junia had nodded in an understanding agreement; even she found her faith shaken by the mere existence of this place.

But for her, prayer was no longer her only reprieve. Looking upon Badu’s face was all she needed to have faith return. In many ways, she couldn’t blame Reynauld for his obvious God-fearing trait.

In fact, for a Vestal, it was seeing him praying again that had led her to the place she had arrived at now.

They currently sat in a safe room – ‘safe’ always being the dubious word here – of another trudge through the Warrens.

The Coves; the Ruins; the Weald; even through all of those, the Vestal’s least favourite place of all was the Warrens.

She never had been one for beasts. She was one even less now.

The drums that the taller beasts used to play rung in her ears like wind chimes thrown into a tornado.

Junia looked down at the woman resting against her leg, remembering all of the times that Badu would have to bring her back to reality. The drums ringing in her ears, the sounds of abominable screeches, verbal nightmares searing into her mind. Junia would cling to the fragments of her sanity, loosely scrambling them up, whilst Badu would be frantically throwing together powders and liquids into her tiny bottles shuffled hastily into her satchel. Whenever the Vestal fell vacant, the Plague Doctor was there to pull her out.

“The abyss shall not claim you!” Badu had insisted; tilting the chin of her lover up to the ceiling, and sloppily pouring a shaky waterfall of liquid down her throat. Her hands trembled as much as the voice that died in her throat. “Not today. Not ever!”

Junia felt her eyes flicker shut. The sudden sting of fatigue. The sensation of cold stone against her legs as she sat against the floor. She stoked the fire beneath the small pot, and felt her face warm with the flicks of the flame.

Her fingertips slid through the edges of Badu’s golden threads like silk.

Much to her relief, Badu had not caught on, but Junia had thrust upon herself the duty of Sanctuary as the others slept. 

A blessing from The Abbey; a requested, fortified blessing, and one that had not failed them yet. One that provided her the ability to go on little sleep and little food, for the sake of providing her valued companions – and of course, the woman she loved – with respite. Sacrifice was, often, the foundation block for moving forward. Be it the littler sacrifices of light or food, to the sacrifice of one’s own life – Junia was prepared to give whatever it took.

Badu often took off her mask as she slept. Her tumbling locks of blonde, the handsome, scarred lines of her face. Junia’s fingertips knew every line; every incision, every cut that littered her face from the previous wars she had been forced in to fighting. Junia had offered to repair the skin; Badu had declined. _Added character_ , she said. Junia had only fallen more in love with her for such a statement.

And as Junia felt her fingertips continue to twirl the edges of her blonde hair; the soft, vulnerable side to the woman she loved, resting gentle against her thigh as she slept; she felt her insides twisting as though they were beguiled with blight.

“My treasure…” she whispered to herself; her eyes heavy with melancholy.

Her palms stroked against Badu’s skin; and for a moment, she felt at peace to watch her lover’s side rise and fall slowly with the pattern of breath. The sign of life. Her mortality, momentarily, put on hold.

Junia knew of many others that had come before that now lay in the graveyard of this place. Misshapen, in bits and pieces, little more than small piles of bones and rotting flesh; broken homes of the souls they once held. But Junia knew, even if the nightmares of her waking moments cursed her, that the group she was in; the motley, pre-designed group of people who had one clear goal in mind; could maybe actually get to the very end of this hellish place in one piece.

She remembered as she tilted her head back every single step through these horrid, hallowed halls. She remembered even more as she sat; her ears gently soothed by the sounds of her companions snores and respite.

“What do you think?” The Crusader had first asked her and Badu in a tavern one day; an enthusiastic voice echoing behind the rattle of his helmet. He had spotted them dressed appropriate for their respective jobs; and quickly, after hurrying over with a large slip of grubby paper in his hands, had thrust it into their faces – pointing excitedly at the part where it said ‘great treasures await’. “An excellent idea, is it not?”

“ _Excellent_? Hardly.” Badu responded; her nonchalance unsurprising to a lover who knew her so well. She dismissively cast a hand to her right, and Junia remembered smiling at her side. “Who is to say that we wouldn’t immediately be put out of commission? And you are quite a stranger still, my friend. Who’s to say you wouldn’t immediately betray us?”

Reynauld slammed his tankard down against the wood of their table; drips of cheap ale dribbling over the sides. Some of the voices dissipated around them at the sudden declaration, even over the rabble of usual custom.

“First of all, I bitterly resent that. I am a man of God, I’ll have you know!” He protested, pointing an accusing finger at Badu’s unimpressed expression. “And secondly, failure? Well, that very much depends on the healing skills of your friend, here!”

Junia remembered herself and Badu had exchanged a look of annoyance.

“She’s my _lover_ ,” Badu had responded, irritated. “Not my friend.”

The Crusader shook his head.

“Frankly, madam, I don’t care what _either_ of you are. Are you up to the job or not?”

“…We’ll do it.”

An unexpected voice had popped up. Junia remembered it being her own.

Both people were surprised to hear the voice of the other woman at the table.

“ _What_?” Badu had replied, amazed at the woman at her side. “Are you quite sure?”

“Oh, is that so?” The Crusader responded jubilantly, interrupting. “Jolly good!”

“Hold on.” Badu had said icily, and the knight before her immediately buttoned his lip. She placed her hands on the table. “Junia…”

Junia remembered smiling serenely at the woman before her. All she had ever wanted in this world was to see her happy; and she knew, better than anything, that money could bring far more than material wealth. With all of the treasure at the end of this place, all of the knowledge they would gain about other – at that time, rumoured – beasts, abominations, and other such things; it would be a flourishing ground for a Plague Doctor. And besides, wasn’t there an Abbey there?

“There is indeed!” Reynauld replied, chipper in his response. “If I am to understand correctly, the small Hamlet there can provide you with almost anything, but the catch is that you must venture into the abominable surroundings in turn.”

Badu scanned Junia’s expression before her, her hands resting warmly against her lover’s knees as they sat.

“…Junia…”

Reynauld got up to go and pay for his drink, and was quickly accosted by a Houndsman who had been watching his enthusiasm with the leaflet most carefully. Badu and Junia had looked just momentarily at the new companion they were undoubtedly gaining; the smells of spilt ale, roast beef and other such scents wafting through the tavern air; before Junia remembered cupping Badu’s mask-clad face with her hands.

“My darling,” Junia responded, her voice little higher than a whisper, “this is your chance of a lifetime; and I want to be here with you every moment of the way.”

“I do not want you in any danger. Money cannot buy me love.”

“But money can help the one I love,” Junia replied, and Badu blinked in surprise, “and that is enough for me.”

Since that very moment, things had never been the same. Junia knew that she had become stronger. Badu had certainly become stronger, and so much more worldly versed that her brain could hardly contain the vast quantities of knowledge she had consumed.

William, despite his introversion, had also become more stalwart; more resilient with the aid of his companions.

And as for Reynauld, he had always remained ever vigilant in his quest.

The Vestal was always the one who had found herself lost in the myriad of her own thoughts. In the tavern’s places of respite, or in the moments of solitude she found herself in at the Abbey, her thoughts were what ate away at her the most. Her hands had been pressed together; with the warm, familiar comfort of her own skin to serve as a reminder that she was still alive; even more than she could count of late. And alongside that sensation she had also found herself losing track of everything that meant anything to her the further in to these places they walked. The blessings she would refresh upon her companions; the religious prayers that would slip from her lips like hymns before their campfires. Sometimes, she would return from a venture into the places she had begun to loathe, somehow feeling like less of a person; less human. Just…less than she once was.

But with Badu at her side; her loving, stalwart, determined companion; her torch in all of this murky, inky darkness, Junia felt comforted. It was all worth it to see her smile. And it was because of this; because of life’s great motivator, love, that just maybe, she dared to hope.

Perhaps the four of them would make it to the end of this darkest dungeon after all – and the lives that all of them wanted could begin anew in the brightest of lights.

**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoyed this, then i'm happy to say i just finished writing my first game as part of Noodletub Games - and it's out on Steam right now! it's called The Ghost of You. if you want to sink your teeth into a suspense-horror-love story about an entirely lesbian cast, then please check it out [here](https://noodletub.tumblr.com/post/181306988281/the-ghost-of-you-out-now-on-steam)! thank you so much! ♥


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